Supernova

by Anne Leigh

  “She can hold my arm, but that’s it,” I said with resolve. I didn’t ever want anyone to doubt that I had a girlfriend, and if I was bringing another woman to an event, it was business-related.

  Bridge laughed and said, “What if you have something on your face, she’s not allowed to touch your face?”

  “No. Anything above the shoulders and below my belt is only for you.” Warmth spread through my veins. “If I have dirt on my face, she can tell me and I’ll get rid of it. I’ll tell Trayton to tell her agent so that there will be no gray areas.”

  “You’re such a prude,” Bridge joked, and I could just picture the way her hazel eyes glittered in amusement and her dimples peeked out.

  “I’m saving myself for you,” I’d blurted out, and hearing her laugh was music to my ears.

  “Too late for that, Ice Man. So many have come before me.” She’d snorted and I couldn’t help but join her in laughter. “I gotta go, babe. I have to finish this paper before I leave.”

  When she ended the call, I couldn’t help but think that yes, she was right. Many have come before her. But no one would come after her.

  I’d experienced love before.

  But my love for her was on another level.

  For her I was willing to sacrifice.

  I parked in front of the Royals’ stadium, and sent a text to my agent, Go ahead, but she can only hold my arm. I’m there for the event. Make that clear. I’m with Bridge, make that known to everyone.

  If there was one thing I couldn’t make a compromise on – it was people believing that Bridge and I were over.

  I could care less about what everyone thought, but it made me feel good knowing that there were no doubts that I was Bridge’s.

  “You’re on a winning streak. The last game against the Giants proved that your offense can handle any pressure that comes your way. How do you think you’re going to maintain this?” Sal Ramirez, Sports News field reporter, asked.

  “We’ve been practicing on how we can regulate unblocked pressure and I think it just shows how efficient our man coverage is that we can deflect the defense,” I answered, relaxing my back against the metal chair.

  Today we were doing the media interviews before practice so that we could leave early for our flight to Kansas City tomorrow. Talking about football was easy. My mind replayed the games in my head as the reporters asked one question after another.

  “How has your relationship with Dex Berger changed?” Jo Gracian’s blonde eyebrows moved, Inside Football’s resident news pundit was always fishing for drama.

  Reporters were cool. Some of them stayed on the topic of football; others wanted to know about the drama behind the team.

  “What do you mean?” I asked nonchalantly. Dex and I had reached an unusual arrangement after he had a long talk with the coaches. On the field, we practiced as teammates. Off the field, we didn’t talk to each other. That was fine with me. The less he talked, the less shit spewed out of his mouth.

  “It seems that you are more tolerant of each other. He’s even said that working with you has been a learning experience,” Jo explained and the fifteen reporters in front of me waited with expectant eyes at my answer.

  “We’re on the same team. We have to work together,” I said, noticing that a few reporters were looking at their phones with bewildered glances. “Everyone has to do their job so that we can win.”

  I looked at the clock in the middle of the room. Five more minutes and I was out of there. Coach would come in and do his spiel.

  The chatter in the room picked up and the hairs in the back of my neck started to rise.

  What was going on?

  The last time this happened during my interview, Marvin Thomas, veteran running back, had been involved in the biggest PED scandal that had rocked the league. He’d been a shoe-in for the Hall of Fame, but high amount of steroids during two random tests ruined that chance.

  Gavin Grant, host of Talk Sports Today, raised a hand and I flexed my head, urging him to go on.

  “This just came in…” I noticed the phone cameras were now raised in the air, facing me.

  The door in the back of the room opened, and I eyed Marjorie, the Royals’ main publicist, chatting with Harris, who was in the back room observing the exchanges between the reporters and I. Harris was now standing and motioning for me with his hands to not make any comments.

  What was going on?

  “…How do you feel about your father being accused of sexual harassment?” Gavin’s voice drifted over my ears.

  What?

  What the fuck?

  Gavin kept going, “Texas U’s President is going to be investigated for sexual harassment charges filed by a former employee.”

  A dull throb started in the front of my head.

  I took a deep breath in and let it out through my nose.

  “Scott won’t be answering any more questions. Thank you for your time.” Marjorie stood in front of everyone, and I was ushered out of the room by Harris.

  Coach Henderson met me outside and gave me a hug, “Don’t answer any more questions from the reporters. Your agent is already talking to Marjorie. We’ll handle this as a team.”

  “My father?” I struggled to let the words out.

  “I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this. Give yourself a few minutes before going into the training room,” he instructed, and all I wanted to do was grab my phone from the locker room and call home. I wanted to know what the hell was going on.

  But we had a game tomorrow.

  I needed to finish watching film.

  I needed to get to practice where all my teammates were.

  I needed to just deal with this bullshit later.

  “Scott, son. Relax. It will be okay.” Coach patted my arm and ordered me to sit down on the chair by the side of the wall before he went inside to fend off the questions from the reporters.

  This would be the perfect time to have my phone in my hand, but I had a rule.

  A rule that I’d carried over to my professional career.

  When I was training or at a game, my phone stayed inside my locker.

  Other players had them everywhere.

  For me, I was in my zone; everything else could wait til later.

  Instead of heeding Coach’s advice, I sprinted towards the training room and tried to focus on what I had to do to win the game tomorrow.

  “You’re overthrowing,” Patton, the assistant quarterback coach, said as I guzzled water from a bottle.

  We’d been doing the drills for over an hour, and my throws weren’t getting in the hands of my receivers.

  “Yeah,” I said, agreeing with him. My passes weren’t accurate and even though I kept trying, the ball felt like a thousand pounds of lead in my hands.

  My footwork was off and my deliveries weren’t clean. I tried throwing the short passes, but my receivers weren’t getting the memo.

  Frustration grew inside of me, and Patton called for a 2-minute break.

  “We’re inside the grid,” I heard Dex’s annoying voice and it made my hackles rise.

  “We haven’t talked since you got here. I don’t want to start talking now,” I said in a huffed breath. He could care less if I threw the shittiest throws. Every second string quarterback was just biding their time to be in the limelight.

  “Fine.” I eyed him as he slumped on the chair beside me, “I’m just saying that this is your grid. Anything outside of it, you can deal with later.”

  “What do you know?” I clenched my jaw, hating the way that he was so relaxed. I was the chill guy, I never felt pressured.

  “About your father or about your throws?” He asked and I noticed for the first time that his question hid any sarcastic or offending undertones.

  “Both,” I said, lowering my head with the back of my hands under my neck, my nose almost touching my right leg, trying to relieve the tightness in my head and my chest.

  “Your father is being accused of harassment. The
media is saying that she’s been his secretary for years.” He deadpanned, his voice free of judgment, “Your throws? Even I couldn’t make those on my worst days.”

  My father’s secretary resigned last year. Stef always gave me updates about my father’s life, even when I didn’t want to hear much about him. He and I would never see eye-to-eye on football and since it was my life, we didn’t have much to talk about.

  My father could be manipulative and he could be a bastard about it, but one thing he wasn’t was a cheater.

  I didn’t know what the charges were that were filed against him, but I knew that there had to be an explanation.

  “I know what it’s like to be accused of something. The media becomes the judge and jury without listening to the truth.” Dex’s voice sounded contemplative. I didn’t really think of why he was with us. He was a first-rounder like me. All I heard was that the Vikings were only too happy to be rid of him after his behavioral issues.

  “Let’s go!” Patton clapped his hands, and I gave Dex a nod.

  For the next twenty minutes, I threw the ball until my throwing arm hurt.

  And past the hurt, I kept on going…and going.

  I didn’t make the perfect throws.

  They were off by inches, sometimes a foot.

  But I kept on.

  I called the plays and as I looked to the stands, I suddenly felt so tired.

  My father was being accused of something. The media would become rabid monkeys against my shoulders once again.

  My woman was thousands of miles away from me. I didn’t know when she would be back in my arms again.

  I felt the weight of the stadium on my shoulders.

  I looked around the field. My teammates waiting for my throw, the defense trying to anticipate what I was going to do.

  The grid iron had been my haven for so long.

  It had been the space where I could let go, and just do what I did best.

  It was where I was infallible. Untouchable. Super human.

  But right now, even my haven was being bombarded with the outside pressures being placed on me and the pressures I was subjecting myself to.

  “What are you waiting for?” Greazy, my center, asked.

  I held the ball, the god I’d served for as long as I could breathe was in my hands, and as I positioned myself to throw, I felt a strange numbness overtake my body.

  I’d never had an aura on the field.

  But then again, there was a first time for everything.

  I heard the shouts of my teammates, but they were all muted, sounding so far, far away.

  Then slowly…slowly…

  I felt darkness surrounding me.

  And my world changed to the color of night.

  Bridgette

  “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Miss Cordello. We will be notifying you in the next two weeks about your status.” Dr. Jamaris shook my hand as I finished the line of questioning from the seven judges.

  The questions they’d asked ranged from my favorite food to what I considered my biggest achievement.

  Anything pasta and being in college were my answers.

  They wanted to get to know me as a person. All of the candidates had great grades, good interpersonal skills, and our achievements were there for them to preview on paper. What they were doing was seeing how different we were from each other and what made each of us stand out.

  I always wanted to be invisible, to be in the background.

  But this time, I wanted to stand out so that they would select me.

  It had been a grueling month of school, travel, trying to maintain a relationship with Scott, Rianna, and communicating with my brother.

  I was looking forward to Christmas.

  Thanksgiving had gone by, and Scott had gone to see his family in Texas. I wanted to be with him when he invited me, but he was only there for two days, and this was the first time I’d spent Thanksgiving with my mom and Bishop.

  It was also the first time my mom didn’t hold a party for her and her friends.

  The three of us sat around her dinner table in Manhattan and talked about life.

  My mother wasn’t the type of mom who gave off warmth, but I could see that she was really trying. She asked about my plans and when I divulged to her that I was being interviewed by NASA, she didn’t say a word for a second. Then after she took a sip of her red wine, she asked if I could bring makeup to space.

  Bishop guffawed and I chuckled and the rest of dinner went great.

  She was instrumental in containing the publicity about Scott and I. I had no idea how she did it, but I was thankful.

  I’d never understood her, why she stayed with my father after all the years he’d emotionally abused her because of his obsession with staying relevant, and maybe she would never tell me, but I saw glimpses of what she was like as a person.

  She fussed about my skin and my hair, saying that I need to moisturize more and use her products to keep my hair healthy.

  She shared with me her latest beauty finds, and actually smiled when I showed interest.

  I wasn’t the daughter she wanted, not the one whose life revolved around physical beauty and all that, but she was making room for me.

  She’d apologized again for neglecting to see that I needed special attention when I didn’t say a word during my childhood years, and I’d reached a place in my life where I could honestly say that I forgave her.

  I could go on blaming her for her inadequacies, but the truth was, this was my life now.

  And it was pretty great.

  I thanked Dr. Jamaris and stepped outside of the Kennedy Space Center. I’d been here before. My brother took me on a trip here right after our dad’s funeral.

  Bishop had wanted my mind off of things, and he’d booked a flight for us to spend the day here.

  It was the day that had solidified my dreams of becoming an astronaut.

  Now, as I watched the circular structure emblazoned with ‘NASA’ at one of the buildings entrances, I couldn’t help but smile.

  I hoped they picked me.

  If not, then I would keep trying.

  Scott had encouraged me to reach for my dreams and I knew how much it cost him to say that.

  He wasn’t going anywhere while I, one day, would be launching into space.

  If that wasn’t love, then I didn’t know what was.

  I felt my stomach growl and I grabbed a granola bar inside the gray purse I’d paired with my suit and pants’ attire and nibbled on it.

  I had two hours to explore the area until I had to get back to the airport. I didn’t want to stay for another day because tomorrow was painting day with the kids. My boss had been very accommodating of me, and it saddened me that I had to give her notice that I might be out for a while. I didn’t know if I was going to be accepted into the program, but if I was, I wanted her to get a heads up so she could find a replacement for me.

  My life was changing and as fast-paced as it was, I found myself breathing easier.

  I was getting closer to my dreams, and Scott was right there, helping me up to get through it.

  He made me believe that I could do it and I found myself believing it, too.

  I’d texted Scott twice already, but he hadn’t answered yet.

  He must still be in practice.

  He never had phone on him when he was on the field or in training.

  I’d bought him a small foam airplane with NASA on it as a souvenir at one of the gift shops. I liked to buy him little things when I went somewhere. Little mementos that reminded him of me, that he had someone who loved him.

  Scott wasn’t needy, but sometimes I saw the shadows in his eyes, the doubt that lingered about if I really loved him.

  I couldn’t fault him for that, everyone had their insecurities. He didn’t have a great relationship with his father and he rarely talked about him. His stepmom was his closest tie to his dad, and I was looking forward to meeting her one of these days.

 
His ex-girlfriend broke up with him and I knew that she’d made a dent in his heart.

  He’d loved Kara and when Kara chose my brother over him, it devastated him. It was why I never answered him when he’d texted me to get together after he’d brought me home over three years ago. It was why I didn’t respond when he’d texted me again to tell me that he was drafted number one.

  I didn’t want to be the rebound.

  I didn’t want to be the girl he chanced to be with because another girl broke his heart.

  I wanted time to take its toll and maybe help him get through it.

  I knew what heartbreak felt like and it didn’t take another person to magically heal it.

  It took me years before I could mend the fissures that Dex’s betrayal created inside of my chest.

  Being with another person helped, but it didn’t suture the broken parts.

  Being alone helped me find my own strength, and the knowledge that I would come out better was what kept me going through the years.

  Miss you, Ice Man. I texted again knowing that it might go unanswered.

  Being with him had shifted my priorities.

  I was going for my dreams, but I was also considering the fact that if I got picked, I would have to set on the number of times I would go up in space, once given the choice.

  The clock on my phone said it was 1:10 PM.

  He should be out of practice by now.

  Maybe he had interviews.

  I tried to leave a voicemail, but an unknown number appeared on my phone.

  I didn’t answer numbers that weren’t familiar to me, but something nagged at me to take the call.

  “Bridgette?” It was a voice that had thawed my heart back then. Now I felt nothing as I heard him talk on the phone.

  “Hey Dex. How did you get my number?” I went straight to the point. I wasn’t happy that he had it. It had taken me three months to get over the fact that he’d blocked me when he’d broken up with me.

  “Where are you?” Completely ignoring my question, he proceeded. “Are you in the area?”

  A feeling of unease crept through my blood. Dex sounded serious and worried.